


Virtues uncounted

by withered



Series: Liars [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Shinigami, Alternative Universe - Modern, Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Soft Ichigo, Tattoos, This is fluff, Timestamp, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: Rukia is happy, and sometimes she thinks its not fair.





	Virtues uncounted

 

He looks like a piece of art; golden skin draped across white sheets and ink moving like water along his muscles as he breathed in sleep.

It’s cliché to think he looks different like this.

Of course he does.

In the light of day, the sharp planes of his face were severe; brows and mouth settling themselves easily into a resting scowl.

Anger is an easy look on him, but more a default than a state of being.

The consensus had always been, attraction or not, that Kurosaki Ichigo is an intimidating asshole, but he’d shown her time and again that while he could be an asshole when he wanted to be, people being intimidated by him was hardly his fault – not when he hadn’t given them a reason beyond having a face that didn’t look friendly.

Confidently still, he never seems to think twice about the space he took up, just used to filling it. With the reputation he has, it’s easier, Rukia guesses, for him to settle into the skin of someone who’s as mean and scary looking as he pretends to be.

Right here and now though, he’s none of those things: mean, scary or pretending.

Vulnerability is easy to achieve when you’ve got your eyes closed, face pressed against the pillow, limbs splayed and muscles slack. Like this, Ichigo looked the way she knew him to be – warm and careless – with his smiles and his bright eyes and the welcoming give of his embrace.

It isn’t different, in some ways, at all.

But she felt special being allowed to see it nonetheless, to know that even if he woke up right now – startled out of nightmares he still sometimes gets (and probably always will) – that he’d only frown grumpily before tightening his hold around her, nuzzling into her neck and pressing lush lips to the soft skin behind her ear.

As if he felt her looking, could feel her gaze tracing the sinuous curve of the snake that made up his back tattoo; the flowers around it fluttered in an invisible breeze; he shifted.

Peering over his shoulder, a hint of gold beneath dark lashes, Ichigo’s mouth twitched at the corners in a smile. “You know you’re being creepy right?”  

More fond than annoyed, she rolls her eyes before settling on the bed on her knees and crawling until she’s straddling his ass. And ugh, side-note, _what an ass_. Rukia was about a thousand percent sure that it was the golden ratio of asses, she knows this with utmost certainty because Rangiku is _awful_ and uses her genius math brain for evil.

Muffling her snickers at the thought, she bends at the waist to press annoying, insistent kisses wherever she can reach the nape of his neck, his bare shoulder, his chin, his cheek, his ear. She’s always a little more playful after her morning run, always a little less self-conscious with her affection.

And he doesn’t complain, at least not for real.

Grumbling a mock-protest, blush growing dark, he does nothing to stop her, and she grins against his skin.

Despite it all, he’s still allowed his appearances.

“Hi,” she finally says resting her chin against his shoulder, their noses brushing before their lips meet in an awkwardly angled kiss.

He huffs out a laugh, faded mint on his warm breath and eyes bright as he murmurs back, “Hi.”

She nuzzles back, another light kiss on the lips before she pulls away. “Just got back?”

Now that she’s closer, she can smell the shampoo still fresh in his hair, the orange strands pushed up in interesting angles and dried unevenly. Carelessly, she reaches up to run her fingers through them, and he sighs a little – either out of exhaustion or approval, she can’t quite tell when his eyes drift close.

Even though he turned down the full-time job offer to work for the fire department, he still volunteers when he can.

Less so with his position at the library and his increasing number of hours.

It’s the first time in about a month since she’s come home to find him asleep in bed rather than propped up on the headboard with his books.

Sometimes she’s taken aback at how easy this all is, with him and the life that feels like its expanded and filled without her noticing in the three months since they started ‘officially’ going out. It’s like they’ve somehow skipped all the awkward fumbling of will-they-won’t-they and landed straight into intimate domesticity and comfort.

She hadn’t even realized how much of a bright spot having this – having Ichigo is – her life is no less hectic, her anxiety still a constant – but he knows, he supports her, and at the end of the day whether it’s driven her up and over a wall or sent her into a state of euphoria, she has him.

Sometimes Rukia thinks it isn’t fair.

Ichigo’s always seemed so fully functional – always completely in control. He doesn’t need her the way she needs him.

Rukia knows it’s stupid and selfish to begrudge him for it, but it isn’t like she wishes he was worse off – only that she was better – for herself, for him.

He can do better, he deserves it –

 _Bad thought,_ she hears Yoruichi scold, _you don’t get to tell him what he deserves – he makes his choices, you make yours. So, what’s yours going to be?_

Ichigo doesn’t say anything until she moves off of him, sitting beside him instead where he wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face against her hip. Turned slightly more on his side than on his stomach, the Tempest tattoo they now share, hers a smaller imitation on the hip he’s dedicated himself to mouthing at against her squirming, looks even more striking under the sunshine already streaming in from the windows.

Against her protesting laughter, he stops long enough to ask, “How was it?”

After catching her breath, she says, “Good.” 

He hums an approving noise, tightening his arm around her waist and hiding against her stomach, as if to escape the sun peeking in. In the shadow of her, he looks smaller, softer, and she chuckles, goes back to running her fingers through his hair. “Everything okay?” she asks quietly, eyes tracing his skin with reverent attention. 

 _This,_  Rukia thinks selfishly,  _I want this, I choose this._

The flowers at his sternum seem to bloom under the attention, and at her angle, Rukia can see the soft, fond smile at Ichigo’s mouth before he murmurs, “Everything’s good. Everything’s perfect.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I managed to do Ichigo's back tattoo without getting smutty, did not expect that.
> 
> On a personal note, I've decided it's time for me to go to therapy. work life and anxiety do not get along and I'd really like to be able to live without experiencing constant dread kthanx that's all, bye


End file.
